There is something mournful about the sight of a would-be bather attempting to enjoy the frigid waters that surround our island. Typically, a brave figure will detach themselves from a hapless group sheltering on some windswept beach and venture forth, fully intending to plunge themselves into the water. Usually they will get no further than their knees before the screaming starts. Others may then be persuaded to approach or even shyly enter, and they will begin playfully attempting to splash each other, whooping with faux delight and excitement. A closer look will reveal the truth, as their faces contort into masks of utter discomfort.

Sadly, most people associate swimming in the seas that surround us with nothing more than pain - an endurance test that must be survived but certainly cannot be enjoyed. This is a pity, as it is possible to enjoy swimming in the sea in this country; all that is required is a little mental and physical preparation. In order to fully enjoy a British seaside holiday, one must first become an aficionado of the subtle and invigorating joy of arctic pain.

At this point I must confess that I am a devotee of cold water - I might even be described as a cold water fetishist. There can be no denying it: icy water thrills me. It clears my mind of worries, reinvigorates my body and makes me feel profoundly alive. I am also firmly convinced (though on no evidence, as I don't use Google) that it also works wonders for my heart and immune system, and even helps me to lose weight.

My love affair with offshore swimming began a long time ago, but only became a true marriage after some hard work on my part, during which I trained my mind and body to reverse the instinct to cringe and run.

I have always loved the sea, and its beauty and clarity around my home in the Inner Hebrides persuaded me that I would not allow its chilly temperament to prevent me from communing with it on a daily basis. Yet I was not foolish enough to just dive in; I knew I must first convert my body into a sea-going vessel before trusting it to keep alive and happy in the cold. The basics of how I did it are outlined above.

Now, armed with this well-developed perversion, whenever I look at the sea I find myself longing to be in it. I imagine it enveloping me, and yearn for its wintry touch, movement and weight. What others find grim and forbidding, I associate with health, happiness and the thrill of being alive (and, I admit, the occasional slightly seedy physical sensation that does not come pre-packaged by the good people at Health and Safety).

Once one has become a devotee of cold water, no British holiday by the sea is ever the same again. A day on the frigid beach at Brighton will leave you in a Zen-like state of calm, and a rough windswept beach on the North Atlantic transforms itself before you, becoming a palace of joy and a zone of inestimable and selfish physical delight. The Mediterranean is balmy and the Caribbean is exquisite, but none can make a man or woman tingle more profoundly than the great British seaside.

· Call of the Wild: My Escape to Alaska, by Guy Grieve, is published by Hodder and Stoughton

Guy's step-by-step guide to swimming in icy temperatures ...

· Eschew all opportunities to luxuriate in hot water. Train your mind and body to accept the cold by having a cold shower or bath every day. I now wash only in cold water, and allow myself the treat of a hot bath just once a month.

· Never enter the water if you are cold to start with; make sure you arrive warm.

· On your first offshore forays, swim with a friend or make sure someone keeps an eye on you from the shore.

· Keep a close eye on time and learn your limits. Bear in mind the time of year and temperature of the water. Early in the year, when the water is around 8C, I swim for a maximum of 20 minutes. Later, I can build up to 40 minutes as the water warms up to 14C.

· Understand hypothermia and be able to detect the early signs before it is too late. The earliest sign I get is that I start to feel unreasonably confident and start making plans to swim for longer - this is when I know it's time to head for shore.

· Your head is your most vulnerable area. No matter how capable you may be, a cold brain renders you useless. You become a ship under the command of a drunk captain - so always wear a neoprene hood at least 5mm thick.

· Beware of cold blood returning to your core once you've got out of the sea. Drink tea and put on warm clothing and a hat; I also run back from my swim to help the warming process. But a cuddle is the best way of warming up, and your cold body will contrast delightfully with the warmth of your partner - though they may see it slightly differently, of course.

· Finally, keep an eye on the sea state, and understand the effects of tides and wind. I love to swim when a good onshore wind is blowing, as the waves are fun and are going in the right direction to wash me back to shore if something goes wrong. Beware an offshore wind, though. Close to shore, it generates no waves and can look enticing. Once in, however, you can easily be swept away into rougher water.